


just remember not to love me when i disappear

by da_vinky



Series: jupeter bar au [2]
Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Criminal Peter Nureyev, Juno Steel Has a Thing For Teeth, Juno Steel is in Love, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Other, POV Juno Steel, juno is a snarky lady and we love him, not really though. you tell me, nureyev IS the knife, nureyev pulls a reverse final resting place, sort of a sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:48:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27536305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/da_vinky/pseuds/da_vinky
Summary: The note was obviously not left here on purpose, and I doubt he’d have left anything at all if he hadn’t been in such a rush to get out of here before I woke up. He’s not the type to stick around for long, he told me so the first time I met him, so I’m not quite sure what I expected, but I cross the room to grab the note anyways. I push down the hope flaring in my stomach. It’s probably just a grocery list or something, right? I unfold it, and once I do, I realize even more that this was not left here purposefully.It’s an address. The address to the bar I work at. Underneath, in elegant scrawl, reads the words ‘come alone & unarmed.’ and a date, set for a week from today.
Relationships: Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel
Series: jupeter bar au [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2012692
Comments: 4
Kudos: 45





	just remember not to love me when i disappear

**Author's Note:**

> so this is not really the 'next chapter' to the bar!au, i still kinda want that one to be a standalone thing, but the events in this fic take place pretty much right after that one. i THINK you can still read it without prior knowledge but i am not sure because i wrote it. sorry in advance everyone 
> 
> tw/cws:  
> \- implied/referenced sex  
> \- mentioned violence  
> \- blood  
> \- wounds in general

I wake up cold. 

Rolling over, I grope along the sheets for Nureyev, but the other side of the bed is empty. Reluctantly, I open my eyes. 

The first thing I notice when I spot Nureyev is that he looks unfairly not-hungover, which he absolutely has to be after last night. His jacket is folded over his arm, his hair slicked back and starting to curl over his forehead. He looks like a goddamn runway model. 

But then I realize the reason he looks so polished is that he’s halfway out the door. 

“Uh… Good morning.” I rasp, propping myself up on my elbows to look at him properly. 

“Juno! I… thought you were asleep.” Nureyev replies, clearing his throat. I can practically see the cogs in his brain turning to try and find a way to spin this. 

“Well, I woke up. It happens.” 

He sighs, his impeccable posture faltering for a second. “Look. It isn’t personal, I just-” 

“It’s alright, Nureyev. You can go.” I say, dropping back onto the bed.

It looks like he’s going to say something else for a minute, and I hate that my heart kicks up in my chest, but then he’s gone, just as unexpectedly as he came, leaving only a bite mark on my shoulder and the smell of whiskey and rosemary. I sit up, pressing a hand to my forehead like I can shove the headache out of me, and that’s when I see it. A piece of paper lying on the floor, just under the door. 

The note was obviously not left here on purpose, and I doubt he’d have left anything at all if he hadn’t been in such a rush to get out of here before I woke up. He’s not the type to stick around for long, he told me so the first time I met him, so I’m not quite sure what I expected, but I cross the room to grab the note anyways. I push down the hope flaring in my stomach. It’s probably just a grocery list or something, right? I unfold it, and once I do, I realize even more that this was not left here purposefully. 

It’s an address. The address to the bar I work at. Underneath, in elegant scrawl, reads the words  _ ‘come alone & unarmed.’  _ and a date, set for a week from today. 

My head starts to spin even more than it already was. So Nureyev was… what, casing the joint? Checking for goddamned booby traps? Did he mean to meet me, was he only talking to me to distract from something else going on in the background? If so, why did he agree to come home with me…? 

This is too much. Peter Nureyev is clearly not a man to be understood, especially not by innocent bartenders just trying to make a living. Also, I get the feeling that if I dig too deep into this I might be sucked into something too far over my head for me to get out of. 

And yet, I can’t stop thinking about him. It, I mean. The note. Not the person, because that would be ridiculous, going and getting attached to someone who shows no interest in you. Absolutely ridiculous. 

And yet… he’s stuck in my head. Nureyev and his note, rattling around in my skull like a coin in a washing machine. I try and go about my day, working, eating, sleeping, but then every time I blink I see sharp teeth, dark hair, flashing eyes…  _ Why _ ? It’s not like I haven’t had one night stands before. It’s not like I haven’t done exactly what he tried to do, disappear before they wake up. But he just won’t  _ leave _ . 

I go through my week almost robotically. It’s like I’m on autopilot, my brain running scenarios over and over, all concerning one long-limbed criminal and a cryptic note dropped on my bedroom floor. I barely even notice as Friday comes and goes, and I get the weekend off. 

It’s almost worse when I have nothing to do. I can’t distract myself with dishes or customers, and I get sucked so deep into my own brain that I don’t realize what day it is until the sun is inches from the horizon. Saturday. The day from the note, the day Nureyev was supposed to meet his… whoever. And  _ that _ thought launches me down a whole other spiral of worry and confusion and frustration. 

Finally, I decide I’m going to go there. He’s sure to be there, probably, the meeting time was half an hour ago, and at the very least I’ll get to see him again. To make sure he pays his tab this time. Obviously. Purely professional interest. But anyways, I tug my coat off the hook and throw open the door. 

To the face of Peter goddamn Nureyev. 

“Hello, Juno.” 

He’s a wreck. Split lip, bloody nose, bruises already forming on his cheekbones and knuckles. But that smile, that goddamned sharp smile… It makes my brain go fuzzy. 

“Oh. Fuck. It’s you.” I say, not quite believing my eyes. “Didn’t you try and sneak out so I  _ wouldn’t _ see you again?” 

“Fair point.” He says, looking the closest thing to embarrassed I’ve seen him. He’s clearly exhausted, and I can almost see the cracks appearing in his mask. My scowl softens. 

“What happened to you?” 

“Nothing of importance. I’m sorry for the intrusion, dea- Juno, but…” 

“Just come in already.” I groan, stepping aside to let him in. He hesitates only for a second. 

“Should I just…” Peter gestures to the furniture vaguely. “Just so you know, I am bleeding profusely.” He adds before I can reply. 

“What?! Where?! Why the hell didn’t you lead with that?!” 

“I didn’t want you to worry. Or call an ambulance.” He shrugs, wincing, and unbuttons his shirt to show me the stab wound in his shoulder. 

“Jesus fucking christ, Nureyev…” I huff. “Okay, just… sit anywhere. Don’t worry about blood or whatever. I’m going to get a first aid kit, do  _ not  _ move.” 

Nureyev sits, gingerly taking off his shirt completely. I am not going to let it distract me. In fact, I am going to treat him as if we are estranged friends. He wanted to leave, I won’t get in the way of his forgetting I ever existed after he leaves here. 

The first aid kit is on the bathroom counter. You really do get stabbed a lot in Hyperion City, especially when you have to deal with drunk people for a living. When I get back, to his credit, he hasn’t moved. 

“Wow, that is… a decent amount of blood.” I mutter, head swimming. It’s different when it’s your own… 

“Juno? Are you okay? You look a little unsteady…” Nureyev asks, making to get up but I wave him off. 

“What? I’m fine. Everything’s fine. Sit down.” Reluctantly, he does. 

I sit next to him, squeezing my eyes shut and allowing myself two seconds of panic. Oh my god, Peter Nureyev is back in my house and he is bleeding  _ a lot _ and he is not wearing a shirt- 

“This’ll probably need stitches.” I say, taking a deep breath, which is a mistake because everything even  _ smells  _ like blood. “Are you sure you don’t want me to call an ambulance?” 

“No. Don’t. Please.” Nureyev says urgently, putting his hand overtop of mine.  _ Don’t get attached, Steel…  _ “I’ve undergone worse, a bandage will suffice.” 

“Are you sure? This looks really bad…” I repeat, breathing as shallowly as possible. “Uh… There’s also a sterile needle and thread in here…” 

“Do you know how to use them?” 

“I’ve had some practice.” I can’t believe I’m offering this. He said he was fine, what in god’s name is wrong with me? 

“That would be… appreciated. Thank you, Juno, really.” Nureyev sighs in relief. I can tell he has something else on the tip of his tongue, but he just adjusts himself so I can get at his shoulder better. 

Oh god. I’m really doing this, huh? I prep my needle, and let out a steady breath before I start. 

I nearly stop at his first hiss. I don’t want to hurt him,  _ it’s different when it’s on yourself _ , but I keep going. As much as I hate literally everything about this, I don’t want him to get an infection. I’m not sure where he’s from, but if even one particle of dust gets in an open wound here it’s over for you. 

I don’t remember when his hand landed on my knee, but I don’t notice until he grips it hard enough to bruise. Admittedly, it… makes me feel a bit better. I still can’t bring myself to look up at his face, just keep concentrating on the stitching, ignore the blood,  _ ignore the blood _ . He’s going to be fine. He said he had worse, didn’t he? 

Finally, it’s over, and both of us breathe an audible sigh of relief. 

“Thank you. Again.” He says, leaning his head onto the back of my couch. It’s so old and ratty that the bloodstains might improve it, actually. 

“No problem.” I lie. “I’ll go get something for your face and the blood.” 

“You’re a goddess.” Nureyev mumbles, clearly tired and incoherent. I roll my eyes as I get up to go to the kitchen, which is only a few steps from the meager living room. I dig a chunk of ice from the freezer and wrap it in a cloth, then grab another cloth to mop up his shoulder. Honestly, I can’t believe I got through that without fainting or throwing up. 

Nureyev is ten minutes from passing out when I get back. He’s worrying at his split lip and staring at the ceiling, eyes narrowed like he’s trying to chip away at the flaking paint. 

“Stop doing that, you’ll make it worse.” I grunt at him, pressing the ice to his cheek and moving his non-injured arm up for him to hold it. Next, I focus on the shoulder. At least it isn’t actively bleeding anymore… I gently start to wipe at the blood around the stitches. 

“Hey. Juno.” Nureyev says, still staring at the ceiling. 

“Hm?” 

“Sorry.” 

I’m quiet for a second. He must be loopy with pain. “For what?” 

“Leaving. I didn’t want to, you know.” He says it as if it’s the most obvious thing in the universe, and my heart skips a beat. Fuck me, even my organs are turning against me now… 

“Why did you, then?” 

“I’ve just showed up at your door looking like I’ve gone through a meat pulveriser and you have to ask why… I’m  _ dangerous _ , Juno. I do dangerous things, and the people I care about...” He snorts, shaking his head and looking at me for the first time. I pretend I don’t notice the soft look in his eyes, pressing the cloth to his wound again. 

“Nureyev, buddy, I could name ten places within five blocks that I’ve been stabbed. I’m no stranger to dangerous, and…” I take a deep breath. Jesus christ, I’m in deep. “And if I’m honest, it’s never looked quite so attractive.” 

“You… Alright, then.” He grins, and I meet his gaze. Screw my traitorous heart, our free hands meet. 

“Great. Fine. Now that that’s established, can you please tell me why and how you ended up here?” I huff, fighting very hard to hide a grin of my own. I’m pretty sure it doesn’t work. 

“Ah. I knew we’d get back around to there eventually… Well, as I’m sure you’ve assumed, I don’t lead the most… savoury lifestyle. I was meeting a potential mark, someone ridiculously wealthy and stupidly gullible. But it seems I underestimated them… As you can see. I specified they come unarmed, but they brought security with them and hid them in the crowd of patrons, so here we are.” He sighs. 

So that’s what the note meant… I’m glad he didn’t blow up the place. I left a pen there the other day. “So when you came to the bar last week you were…”

“Just checking it out. Familiarising myself with the layout, the exits. The regular routine.” Nureyev gave a one-shouldered shrug.

“You’re thorough.” 

“Wouldn’t you be, in my position?”

“Fair point. Are you going to stick around here long?” 

“Hm. I wasn’t going to, but…” He looks at me again, and this time I look back unabashedly. He smiles. “I think I may be able to find something to do in Hyperion City a little longer. 

“Well, we have some catching up to do then, Nureyev.” I grin back at him. He squeezes my hand. 

Christ, I’m going to get in so much trouble because of him. 

**Author's Note:**

> thank u so much for reading <3 i loved the way juno and peter came off in the first one and so i wanted to recreate that! i might have accidentally fallen in love with juno steel. i'll update you on these developments. 
> 
> please comment!!! i love it when people comment it makes me very happy!!!! i will boop my dog's nose for every comment i promise


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